


We Come in Peace

by wearethewitches



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Blanket Permission, Gen, One Shot, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, gone wrong, idk if i'll continue this but everyone can have at it if they want, stardates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 22:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18904180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: “The computer said there were distortions inside the wormhole; they brought us off-course.”“By a thousand years? No – there’s something deeply wrong with your suit, Michael.”“I’ve been trying to tell her that,”says Lorca.-or, a working timesuit can't be made in an hour and my muse was singing.





	We Come in Peace

The comms crackle and Michael gasps for breath, staring out into the vast expanse of space. Her wings are bright red with light and Spock’s face fills her thoughts as she floats, looking out at the stars.

“Set the seventh signal,” she gulps, ordering the computer to let out the red burst, sending it through the portal at her back. The wormhole has its own gravity, its own momentum and pull – frankly, Michael is terrified she’ll be pulled back in with nowhere or no- _when_ to go.

“ _Discovery to Burnham-_ ” Saru calls for her and all of a sudden, Michael’s sensors go wild, feeling another ship, the comms disengaging. Michael uses her thrusters to twist in space, barely avoiding the ship that goes careening past her.

“Discovery, what’s going on?” Michael demands, seeing their registration number on the gleaming hull. She engages her propulsion systems, flying hard and fast out of reach and range – only to realise that there are _two_ starships there. She watches in horror as they glide past each other, metal ripping apart and flying off in chunks as they turn to avoid each other.

 _‘Alert,_ ’ her suit flashes, _‘Timeline changed. Return recommended.’_

“What? How?” Michael hisses, stabilising the suit at a distance and looking between the two starships. It takes her nearly ten seconds to realise that she’s seeing a mirror image. She checks the date on her visor.

_232/2115.782-2256_

“We went backwards,” she whispers to herself. “How did this happen? Computer – why aren’t we in the future?”

 _‘Distortions within wormholes can alter trajectory. Alert. Timeline changed. Return recommended._ ’

“Shit,” Michael hisses. “Contact _Discovery._ ”

‘ _Contacting U.S.S. Discovery.’_

A line connects. Michael wastes no time in speaking. “Saru, something went wrong. We’re in the wrong time. My computer’s saying it was caused by a distortion in the wormhole, but-”

“ _Michael Burnham?_ ”

Her voice stops. All her muscles tense. _That’s not Saru,_ Michael thinks, ice water falling across her back.

Gabriel Lorca demands an answer, “ _What is this? How are you out there? We can see you – you’re putting out a hell of a lot of radiation there._ ”

“Captain,” Michael startles, voice quiet. All at once the suit is too small and there is not enough empty space around her in this silent vacuum. There’s nowhere to hide.

“ _Are you from the future?_ ”

“Yes,” Michael replies. There’s no use denying it. She’s already said plenty, already given away enough information to destroy her future. _Timeline changed_ – that’s what her computer said. Michael could go forwards and discover whether or not Control has destroyed all sentient life, except she can’t, because the time crystal on her back has already been burnt up creating the wormhole.

“ _What happened? Get over here – we’ll beam you up._ ”

“Don’t!” Michael exclaims, activating her propulsion systems and edging towards where the more battered _Discovery_ is parking up.

Stamets was injured the last time she checked, which means no spore-drive for them to use to escape with – if they even could escape. Who knows whether or not the past version of Stamets could follow them; it’s not like there’s ever been two functional spore-drives at the same time, able to chase down the other.

“ _Burnham, you’ve got to get out of that suit,_ ” Lorca insists. “ _That level of radiation will be lethal very soon._ ”

“My suit is designed to protect me from the effects,” Michael says, heart beating fast. Her computer flashes, saying ‘ _Communication request from U.S.S. Discovery, twenty-two fifty-seven.’_ “Add them to the line.”

“ _What?”_

Michael ignores Lorca, listening to Saru as he gushes into her speaker. “ _Michael, when are we? What is the other Discovery doing here?_ ”

“ _The hell?_ ” Lorca startles and Michael hears the strangled sound Saru makes at his voice.

“ _Lorca!_ ” the Kelpien exclaims. “ _Michael, what time are we in?_ ”

“The computer said there were distortions inside the wormhole; they brought us off-course.”

“ _By a thousand years? No – there’s something deeply wrong with your suit, Michael._ ”

“ _I’ve been trying to tell her that,_ ” Lorca presses, “ _The amount of radiation being put off from that thing will kill her._ ”

“We put it together at last minute,” Michael adds, uneasiness swirling in her gut as she begins to become convinced. Her adrenaline is fading – she can feel an itchiness, a _burning_. “Don’t beam me aboard, either of you. I need to get to the shuttle-bay again and come inside manually, if I’m really a radiation hazard.”

“ _Hurry,_ ” Saru orders, worry clear. Michael begins her flight, heading towards the future-ship. “ _Do you know the date?_ ”

“My computer is logging it as two-three-two, twenty one-fifteen point seven-eight-two, dash twenty-two fifty-six.”

“ _That sounds about right,_ ” Lorca mutters and Michael struggles not to snarl or let her anger control her.

Saru is not so controlled.

“ _You will quiet yourself, Gabriel Lorca,_ ” he snaps, sounding furious. “ _If you have nothing productive to add to the conversation, then I suggest silence._ ”

“ _Is there a problem, Mister Saru?_ ”

“Captain Saru,” Michael corrects him, unable to help a savage grin as she approaches _Discovery’_ s shuttle-bay. “Approaching shuttle-bay, sir.”

“ _Lowering shields for you now, Number One._ ”

Michael’s heart leaps to her throat. “I didn’t know I was up for promotion, sir.”

Saru scoffs. “ _An illogical presumption, as you might say, Commander. Nhan is henceforth your Second, provided she…well, provided she lived through the encounter with Control._ ”

“ _Nhan? Who the hell is Nhan?_ ” Lorca demands, before the shields go down and Michael touches down.

“Our Chief of Security.”

“ _What happened to Tyler?_ ”

More ice water. Michael forces herself to stay calm. “Section Thirty-One took a liking to him. Captain Saru – removing timesuit now, sir. Coming up to the Bridge.”

“ _As it would be useless to order you to sickbay, I agree. Captain Lorca, we shall hail you when Commander Burnham rejoins us._ ”

“ _Commander?_ ”

Michael disables the comms. Then, she exits the suit, stepping out and immediately feeling the itch get ten times stronger. Jogging away from the radioactive, defunct timesuit that apparently can’t be remade from scratch by a simple scan, Michael gives a short nod to the pair of science officers speeding into the shuttle bay to deal with it and escapes into the bowels of the _Discovery._

**Author's Note:**

> [ come say hi on tumblr ](https://wearethewitches.tumblr.com/ask)


End file.
